


Teasing

by uumuu



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/F, Feathers & Featherplay, Light Bondage, Nipple Licking, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:17:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uumuu/pseuds/uumuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aredhel has gotten herself in a difficult position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teasing

**Author's Note:**

> Fulfills my Season of Kink wildcard (teasing).

Írissë inhales deeply, her ribcage rising and easing the pressure on her bound hands for a moment. It's the only relief she gets. Breathing in is being enveloped by the strong, spicy fragrance of the oils Héruminyë has set to burn on the nightstand, and Héruminyë's own scent clinging to her face with her juices.

Her whole body is strung with pleasure. Héruminyë flicks her index finger over her clit, and her hips jerk, lifting fruitlessly off the bed. Just a little more, a few touches, and she could have climaxed again. She desperately needs to. Héruminyë has only allowed her to reach completion once since they have retired to her room after supper. The tingly, throbbing sensation between her legs has been there for so long she can't bear it any longer. 

“You're dripping wet,” Héruminyë says, pushing three of her fingers inside her, moving them slowly back and forth.

Írissë wiggles, trying to fuck herself on them but Héruminyë gives a soft chuckle and pulls the fingers out. 

“I wonder what I could do next,” she muses out loud, taking on a pensive air as she licks her fingers one by one, savouring Írissë's taste, before returning them between her legs. “Perhaps play with your sweet ass,” she says, tracing the rim of Írissë's asshole with wet fingertips, then pushing as if to breach her. “Or I might just sit on your face again and let you lick me some more.”

“Do whatever you like,” Írissë grunts, sounding a lot more stoical than she feels.

“Whatever?” Héruminyë echoes. Her fingers travel up Írissë's folds again to pinch her clit, and she rolls it between them long enough to see Írissë's face twist, her eyes light with expectation and darken again when she lets it go. Her own eyes settle on Írissë's breasts, still half concealed under her silver-embroidered white blouse. Mischief flickers across her face. She rises from her perch next to Írissë's body and straddles her. She unfastens the top buttons, pulling the upper part of the blouse open, allowing Írissë's breasts to fall free on her chest. 

“So beautiful,” Héruminyë coos, pinching the right nipple. 

She bends and takes the same nub into her mouth, sucking on it while pulling her head back.

Írissë bucks under her, but she can't move much with Héruminyë's thighs grinding down on her sides.

Héruminyë chuckles around her nipple. She sucks forcefully on it, and when she finally lets it go, it is by raking her teeth over the hardened nub. Írissë sighs, but respite is brief, for Héruminyë turns to the left nipple and sucks that too into her mouth, while her hands cup both breasts, kneading them. Every time she squeezes, she bites or pulls on the nipple. 

When she's had enough of it, and before Írissë can gain any satisfaction from the teasing, she leaves the bed and calmly struts to the armchair where her clothes are strewn. Írissë tries to raise herself to a sitting position, but it proves impossible with her hand tied behind her back, and all her wriggling accomplishes is to make her feel even more frustrated, and sweaty.

“Do something!” she yells after Héruminyë has been gone for some time.

“Have you decided what?” 

Írissë clamps her lips shut and refuses to reply, because she wants to say 'make me come', but it would be too close to begging.

Héruminyë goes back to the bed, holding her peacock-feather fan in her right hand. “Well?” 

Írissë eyes the fan worriedly, knowing full well what Héruminyë might do with it. Her assumption proves correct, because Héruminyë kneels on the bed next to her and lets the fan brush against her feet, up along her leg and the inside of her thigh, but sweeps it up before it can touch her quim.

Írissë lets out a relieved sigh but tenses again as Héruminyë brings the fan back down over her hardened nipples, and trails it from there over her belly and to her desperately tingling clit. She can't help moan when the ends of the soft feathers flick over it, up and down, meeting her need, getting close to release...and they're gone.

Héruminyë smiles. “I can go on like this for how long I wish.”

Írissë is blushing from head to toe, shivering, but still keeps her silence.

Héruminyë shrugs, letting the fan dangle close enough to Írissë's skin to tickle. “I guess this will be a very, very long night.”


End file.
